


laissezz les enfants jouer

by lethargicProfessor



Series: tintype afterimage [7]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: Timothy Hearst; former thief and exorcist extraordinaire.He had to start somewhere.
Series: tintype afterimage [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/514300
Kudos: 4





	laissezz les enfants jouer

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not to be reproduced or reposted on any site or app other than Archive of Our Own, Tumblr, and WordPress (LPWrites/LethargicProfessor). This work is available for free on these sites, and is **not to be used or sold for profit by any third parties or apps.**

Timothy was just a baby when his father cornered him, a mad gleam in his eye as he grabbed the boy and pressed the cold gem against his mouth. 

It hurt, the heavy weight of a foreign object knocking against his teeth hard enough to smart, followed by the blinding moment of panic as it slid across his tongue and knocked back, sharp against his throat.

For a moment, Timothy wondered if he would be meeting his mother on the other side like the grannies in the street whispered after his father.

The pain in his throat ebbed, but his head pounded fiercely, agony to the point of tears. The officers tasked with getting him under control seemed to pass him from one person to the next, a tangle of arms and badges digging into his arms, and still the pain wouldn’t _stop_.

“What’s your name?” One finally asked, and Timothy squinted through the throbbing to stare into the face of a blonde man. He settled Timothy in his arms with practiced ease, and tugged the sleeve of his coat down to wipe at Timothy’s face.

“Timothy,” he whispered, flames licking at his throat.

The man nodded, and walked out of the house with Timothy, past the officers marching inside. “Do you have more family, Timothy?”

Timothy shook his head, and fought back sobs as the man rubbed his back, and changed his life forever.

-

Emilia was twelve when she decided Timothy was going to join their family. She held him in her arms, a warm weight, as she needled her father to adopt him already.

Timothy was a fussy child, though she was sure it had more to do with the gem on his forehead than any issue in temperament. He seemed to settle whenever she held him, though, despite her mother scolding her to stop.

“He’s a growing boy, you can’t carry him everywhere you go,” she would say, and still Emilia would hike him up to her shoulder, and trail after her father on his way to the police department, then all the way back home.

She was too young, or too naïve, to spot the way her father would avoid looking Timothy in the eye, how he would avoid touching his head if he could help it. He would only give her a tired smile, and send her home, and bid her to leave Timothy at the orphanage, where he would surely be missed if she kept stealing him away.

She would return him only after dark, when Timothy was asleep on her shoulder, taking care to hand him only to the Mother Superior who would smile fondly at Emilia and give her a blessing before sending her home. After a night’s sleep, she would return, and do it all over again.

It carried on for almost a year, before the Inspector put his foot down. He was notoriously weak in regards to his daughter, but he couldn’t give her this.

His conscience, his guilt wouldn’t allow it.

Emilia sobbed for hours and hours in her room, the sniffles interrupting the otherwise silent dinner as Emilia’s mother glared daggers into her husband.

“We can afford to keep him,” she sniffed, and the underlying barb at his work hours was not missed.

“The money isn’t the issue,” the Inspector had ground out, and it had taken all of their dinner and a nightcap before he confessed his true reluctance.

The next day, Emilia’s mother explained the situation. And if Emilia’s visits to the orphanage began to wane, the sisters could understand. A young lady needed to focus on her duties, after all.

-

It was fitting that Timothy become a thief.

It was what his father had done, and all the old biddies insisted that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. So if he snapped at them and pulled faces and made rude gestures, then that was just his nature. He couldn’t be faulted for that.

It was slow, at first, following men on their way to and from work, easier to hop out of an alley unseen and take over. The very first few times, that first week, he was a mess, struggling to coordinate on limbs his brain felt were too long for a young boy.

He was determined, though, taking people for practice runs, getting used to a body that wasn’t his own, learning to jump and climb and leap from rooftop to rooftop. It was like a game, and Timothy loved to win.

His first heist was the sloppiest; a jeweler several blocks from the orphanage that had chased Timothy away from his stoop for stopping to rest on a hot day. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a sense of satisfaction, picking the lock to the man’s shop and stepping in to revel in his accomplishment.

He hadn’t counted on the man having a dog in the shop to watch over in case of intruders. He managed to escape with a handful of necklaces, but the dog’s bite had slowed him down enough for the police to catch up. His borrowed body and the jewels he had stolen were confiscated by Inspector Galmar, all while Timothy watched from the alley where he had left himself behind.

Timothy went home empty-handed and sulking, having learned his lesson.

Be faster, be sneakier.

He was going to save his orphanage one way or another, and not even the Inspector would keep him from that.


End file.
